


Catch the Wind

by blakefancier



Series: A Perfect World [12]
Category: Captain America (2011)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-12
Updated: 2012-03-12
Packaged: 2017-11-01 20:04:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/360706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakefancier/pseuds/blakefancier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Howard Stark is a smooth mofo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catch the Wind

**Author's Note:**

> Why so schmoopy, fic? Why so schmoopy?

Howard owns the company so you'd think that he could walk down to the mailroom without people making a fuss. But, evidently he's causing waves. Employees keep asking, quite nervously, if they can help him in any way. He's tempted to ask if they're afraid he's going to steal something. He reins himself in though, because he is a man on a mission. 

Steve, when he finds Steve, is standing in a cramped room, sorting mail. Howard has the sudden urge to shove Steve against the wall or onto one of the mailbags and do very dirty things to him. He doesn't because he's pretty sure that Steve's boss— Steve's *immediate* boss because, again, Howard owns the damn company— who's hovering behind Howard, would have a heart attack. 

"You, blond guy," he says, snapping his fingers. "I want to mail something." 

Steve's head snaps up and his eyes widen in surprise. "How— I'm sorry, sir, I didn't quite catch that. How can I help you?"

"I need to send a letter." Howard looks around curiously. He's never actually been in the mailroom. Who knew it was so busy?

"Of course, sir." Steve smiles. "Where's your letter?"

"Huh, I must have left it upstairs. You have typewriters here, don't you? Type it for me." He gestures for Steve to hurry up. "Come on, come on!"

"You could always go get it, Mr. Stark."

"You want me to go upstairs then come back down? Seems a waste of my time. I'm a busy man." He grins at Steve, feeling absurdly pleased.

"That's what I've heard." Steve leads him to a desk. Howard leans up against it and waits until Steve slips a sheet of paper into the typewriter and looks up at him expectantly.

"To my dearest Stephanie," he starts and Steve raises an eyebrow. "I made reservations for us tonight at a very lovely French restaurant. Be ready by 6:30. Wear something… fancy. Love, Howard." 

Steve looks up at Howard and tilts his head. "I don't think the letter will make it before your date, Mr. Stark."

"You think so? Hmm, maybe I should call her instead." Howard wants to touch him, but he's well aware of their audience.

"I would," he says. "Will that be all, Mr. Stark?"

"I suppose so. Good work…" Howard frowns. "What's your name?"

"Steve, sir. Steve Rogers." Steve holds out his hand and Howard shakes it. 

He has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. "You're a real asset, Rogers."

Steve gives him a wide-eyed look. "Gee, thanks, Mr. Stark. Coming from you, that's a real compliment. Have a nice time at dinner tonight, sir."

"Oh, I will. My date's a real looker."

Steve blushes and Howard smirks.

*****

"So what was that all about today?" Steve asks, as they get ready for their dinner date. "Mr. Camden was ready to pop a blood vessel after you left. "

"Really?" He feels oddly pleased about that. He looks in the mirror and adjusts his tie. He smiles when Steve comes up behind him. 

"Yeah. According to… everyone, you've never come down to the mailroom before." Steve brushes his hands across Howard's shoulders and presses a kiss to the nape of his neck.

"I wanted to tell you about dinner tonight," he says, reaching back to pat Steve's hip. "Nothing wrong with that, is there?" 

"You could have told me when we got home."

Howard sighs, turns to face Steve, and kisses him. "I missed you and I wanted to see you."

"Yeah?" Steve says, his face flushing.

"Yeah. If you were Stephanie instead of Steve, I'd take you out to lunch, maybe chase you around my desk a few times." Steve rolls his eyes and smiles. "But you're not. The best I can hope for is getting… what was his name?"

"Camden."

"Right, the best I can hope for is to have Camden put you on mail pick up for the executives. And now that you're on my radar, it won't seem strange when I request you."

"Very devious, Mr. Stark." Steve presses a kiss to his nose.

"I *am* a genius." He slaps Steve on the ass. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Steve lets go of him and takes a step back. "Where are we going again?"

"It's a lovely little French restaurant I found before I was shipped off to London. The food is delicious and they're very discreet. You'll love it, I promise."

*****

Howard knows he's going a bit overboard on the solicitousness, but he can't help it. He wants to do this right. He wants Steve to feel special, wanted. 

Maybe Steve understands that, because he lets Howard do it. He lets Howard open doors for him and pull out his seat in the restaurant, without a reaction. He just gives Howard a fond look and thanks him. And that's why Howard loves him so much, isn't it? 

Howard does his best to be charming—he can be charming—he banters with the waiter in French and orders an expensive bottle of wine to go with their meals and Steve is just… Steve tilts his head and gives Howard a bemused smile.

When the water leaves, Steve leans in and says, "Howard, are you trying to impress me?"

Howard's face flushes and he opens and closes his mouth a few times before lifting his chin and saying, "Yes."

Steve smiles shyly. "Alright." 

"You don't mind?" He's not going to fidget, he's not. 

"No," he says and brushes his fingers along the back of Howard's hand. "I don't mind."

*****

They skip dessert.

*****

On the way back home, Howard kisses him, slow and deep, and rubs a thumb along his jaw. "I wanted to take you dancing, too, but I don't know… I don't know any place we could go."

"It's alright," Steve says, nuzzling Howard's mouth and slipping a hand under his jacket to stroke along his side. "I'd rather go home."

Oh, God, Steve is beautiful, he's perfect and Howard blurts out, because all his sophistication goes out the window when it comes to Steve, "You're important to me. I want you to know that. I want you to know that every day of our lives together. I…"

He fumbles in his pocket because this is the time even though he was going to wait until they got home. His heart is pounding in his chest and he feels sick, but he hands Steve the box… And oh, what if Steve laughs at him? What if Steve—

"What is this?" Steve gives Howard a puzzled frown, but opens the velvet box. "Oh."

"I know we can't—I mean, obviously we can't—And you couldn’t wear it, too many questions as to why you're wearing it *now.* But, you could, I don't know, you could, maybe—"

Then Steve shuts him up with a kiss and says, "Howard. Put it on me."

Howard swallows hard and almost drops the ring, before slipping it onto Steve's finger.

"It's a perfect fit."

He nods.

"I take promises very seriously, Howard." Steve takes his hand and squeezes.

"I know. So do I." He takes a deep breath. "I love you." 

"I love you, too." Steve's cheeks redden and he swallows hard. "Can I get you one? You could wear it on a chain around your neck."

"Yeah," he says, his voice rough, and pulls Steve in for another kiss. "I think that's a good idea."


End file.
